


You Were Here

by TriplePirouette



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-16 22:59:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2287625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriplePirouette/pseuds/TriplePirouette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU, Gold and Belle near the end of their journey to find Bae, but they’re both unprepared for what they find.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Were Here

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know why 2x03 made me want to write this, but it DID. I have something similar that’s more… long term that I may or may not publish ever, depending on how it turns out. This has sprung a lot from the conversations about how old Bae might be, or what Rumpel might find should he ever actually get out of Storybrooke.

It had taken them five different spells, six charms and three potions to get to this point. Gold let his ring tug him, the lock of Bae’s hair safely ensconced in the space between the blue jewel and the setting. He hadn’t taken much from his old life, but he knew enough to take more than one keepsake. The ball had only led them so far before the magic would work on it no more, same for the cloak and the small leather satchel.

But they were close now, he could feel it.

He pulled the Cadillac into the parking lot, reaching out and squeezing Belle’s hand as he parked. It was a gamble, such a horrible, horrible gamble that he was playing. He knew that the curse could only be so precise, could only have brought him so close to the portal in time and space. But it had been tampered with, broken and reconfigured by one of the witches who’d held it for too long before it had been cast, as evident by how long it took them to be able to leave the town with their memories intact and how far away from Storybrooke they were now. He wasn’t just nervous.

He was scared.

Belle held his hand tight, lifting it to her lips for a kiss before she cradled it to her chest. “Whatever we find, I love you.”

He nodded, unable to really look at her. The ring was pulsing with light now, a sure sign that they were close, but he was nearly paralyzed with fear. On one side of them was a long strip mall, dozens of stores and crowds of people milling in and out of them. Across the street was an ominous looking graveyard, and an even more fear inspiring orphanage. He couldn’t have come up with a worse place to sit, so close to the end of his journey, if he tried.

Without a word he reached between them, pulling the jar from the center console. He couldn’t very well let his ring float out in a crowd of people, or let it blindly lead him until he punched someone, no matter if that person was his son. He needed to observe, to come to terms. He reached for a vial beside him, pouring the bright liquid into the tiny holes in the jar’s lid. It dropped over the bright blue butterfly like rain, and the creature took on a slight glow.

He slipped the insect from the jar and cradled it in a soft hand, opening the door and getting out of the car with a deep breath. Belle stared at him over the hood, waiting as his ring started to tug on his hand. He closed his eyes.

When he opened them, his hand pointed at bright and welcoming Barnes and Noble across the parking lot. Belle smiled at him, rounding the car and linking her arm around his as they approached. “A book store. See? I think this is a good sign.”

He raised his eyebrows, the butterfly tickling the inside of the hand not holding his cane. “You thought that interstate 95 was a good sign. And the rain on Tuesday was a good sign. And getting the wrong order for dinner two nights ago…”

She wrinkled her nose at him, slowing with him as they approached the doors. “I’m trying to be positive for you.”

He stood back, watching people go in and out, his eyes drawn to a small crowd at the front of the store. “I know, sweetheart. I appreciate it.”

She laid her head on his shoulder. “Let’s just go in. You’ve come this far.”

He didn’t speak, but put one shaky foot in front of the other and soon they were past the double doors. His ring tugged him toward the crowd: a small gathering listening to a man introduce an author for some kind of talkback. Once he was at the back of the crowd he stopped them, carefully releasing the tiny butterfly. He watched as it flit, unnoticed, through the crowd of people standing then past the adults in a small group of chairs, past the children sitting on the floor, and finally made a path to the podium.

It landed on the left shoulder of a woman, not much more than her mid twenties, in a smart pinstripe suit.

“That’s wrong,” he whispered to Belle as the man continued to talk about the woman in the suit who was obviously the guest of honor at their small gathering.

She noded, her lips pursed tight. “Perhaps… perhaps he had something to do with making the jacket?” Her words were hopeful but clipped.

Gold’s breath shuttered out of him and Belle tucked her arms tightly around him. She was ready to pull him away when the man finally introduced the author.

“Let’s welcome today’s speaker, the esteemed author of the popular fairytale book Once Upon a Time, Maryanne Rumson!”

Gold’s head popped up, his jaw wide open. “Darling….” Belle whispered, looking between him and the girl taking the stage with the tiny blue butterfly on her shoulder. He was shaking, his hand tightening on his cane as he stared, unblinking. “Could that…”

He shook his head, swallowing hard as the girl held up a copy of the very book that had been Henry’s life line for so many years, that had helped them break the curse, that had always been a mystery to him. “I don’t- I don’t know.”

The children in the front row cheered as everyone else clapped, the youngest ones pointing at the butterfly on her shoulder. Maryanne jumped, but carefully put out her finger and smiled with delight when the creature crawled on it. She leaned over, showing it to the tiny children in the front row. When it didn’t fly away, she shrugged and placed it back on her shoulder, smiling. “Hello everyone, I must say, I’m very excited that you’ve come out to see me.”

Her voice was light, high, soft. For a moment he’d wondered if somehow, some way, his son was… was no longer a son, but her voice wasn’t right, and the eyes, they were too light. Not quite the right shade and her cheekbones were too high. His jaw quivered at the thought of what the other option was.

Her smile was dazzling, bright white and straight and in a flash he could see her in the enchanted forest, at home as a high born princess. But she was wearing a power suit and three inch heals with her fluffy brown hair curling softly down her back and she looked so familiar, and that butterfly was sitting so content. “Mr. Winters here has been so kind as to give me a wonderful introduction, so I thought perhaps I could simply take some questions?”

A little girl in front, dressed in a silly primary colored princess dress, raised her hand. “What made you want to write the book?”

Maryanne smiled. “That’s a very good question!” She looked at the kids. “How many of you got bedtimes stories from your parents?” Many of the kids, and some of the adults, raised their hands. “Well, I did, too. My Dad used to tell the best bedtime stories about ogres and magic beans and fairies and princes. They were amazing and just a little off center. They were never quite the stories we used to know.”

His heart pounded out of his chest. He knew. He knew in that very second.

He bit his lip, trying harder than anything to keep his composure at the back of the crowd. He felt a tear slip down his cheek and before he could even move, Belle had brushed it away. “Breathe, honey,” she whispered in his ear, “You’re not breathing. You’re scaring me.”

He tried, he really did, but her next words undid him. “A few years ago, my dad was killed by a drunk driver.”

“We can go,” Belle whispered to him as his head dropped, “We can leave right now. We… we can find her again, we can come back…” Her hand rubbed across his back, the other clutching his arm tight as if she worried he might fall. They were starting to draw attention.

“No,” he bit out, “I’m not leaving.” He clutched her hand tight, turning his eyes back to the podium.

Maryanne shrugged, a half smile on her face. “He was the best man I knew, and I wanted to find a way to make sure that I remembered him. I started writing down his stories. And it was odd, because I felt like they came back to me word for word. He used to say that I’d been touched by magic.” She forced a cheeky smile and pointed at the butterfly, content as ever on her shoulder, “I always thought it was a joke when I was a kid, but when I grew older he used to tell me that I was a seer. That in this fairytale world I would have been known as an oracle. You all know, like from the Greek Myths?”

She looked sad for a second, then pressed on. “As I was writing, all of a sudden I found myself writing stories that he’d never told me. I was giving characters and places names that I’d never heard.” She chuckled, playing with a ring hanging on a chain around her neck. “Maybe I am a seer, or I just have a really good imagination. Sometimes I like to think that it was my dad telling me the rest of the stories he always meant to tell me.”

Maryanne’s smile faded, and she asked for another question, sadness deep in her eyes. A man asked her about publishing, and Gold tuned out.

“He’s dead, Belle.” Gold whispered, his head falling to her shoulder.

She ran her hands through his hair, tugging. “Come on, we need to leave.”

She pulled him hard, forcefully turning him and leading him away. With his back to the woman who was now laughing her way through an explanation of why Snow White would try to kill Jiminy Cricket, he let the tears fall.

They were halfway across the parking lot when they heard the sound of heels running behind them. “Wait! Please!”

Belle pushed him forward, could not stand to see him falling apart in public, but he stopped. He didn’t look, but he stood his ground. He straightened up and swiped at the tears falling down his face. Belle whirled around, eyes red and face tight, her voice ready to turn anyone away. “Yes?”

It was Maryanne. She stood only a few feet away, but stared as she bit her lip. “He told me I was touched by magic. I didn’t believe him until I wrote the book.”

The butterfly that landed on Gold’s ring, the one that had been sitting on the girl’s shoulder, fluttered twice before the magic wore off, the glow fading and the insect returning to normal. It flew away into the spring air. He watched it until he couldn’t see it anymore. Belle looked between him and the girl, but could do nothing but squeeze his hand tight.

“Why do I know these things?” She asked, walking closer with purpose. “Why do I know that these things have happened? That they’re not just stories?”

Belle moved to stop her but pulled back at the last minute when the girl walked around her to look Gold in the eyes, her own trembling form standing toe to toe with his barely composed figure. “Why do I know your face,” she paused, her features crumbling as the name slipped from her lips, “Rumpelstiltskin?”

His hand lifted, just close enough to nearly touch her cheek before he pulled at away. “Because it’s true.”

She choked back a heavy sob, looking at him like her entire world had changed, though the way she spoke, he knew she suspected. “My dad was Baelfire, wasn’t he?”

Gold leaned his cane against his leg and pulled the ring from his finger, letting it go. It slipped through the air and attached itself to the one on the chain around her neck. It was the last bit of proof he needed. “Yes.”

She reached up, tears slipping from her eyes as she pulled the ring from her necklace and handed it back to him, clutching the one still around her neck. “That makes you…”

“Your grandfather.” His words were choked, tight, like he couldn’t quite believe they were coming out of his mouth. He reached out, meaning just to close his hand around the ring, but he couldn’t quite contain himself as he grasped her whole hand.

The three of them looked at their entwined hands, the blue jewel shining with light between their fingers.

Maryanne untangled her hand from her necklace and swiped at the tears that were falling. “I, uh, I have to go back inside. Will you… will you wait for me?” She twisted her hand in his until she was holding his fingers as tight as he was holding hers. “Maybe a half hour, tops. Will you?”

She looked small, lost, as she asked. He nodded, reaching over and lifting away a smudge of mascara with his thumb. “I will. We will.”

Maryanne nodded quickly, forcing composure over herself. “I’ll be right back.” She slowly untwined her hand from Gold’s, pressing it into a tight fist. She took two steps then turned back. “You’re Belle, aren’t you?”

Belle nodded, tears slipping over her lashes as she smiled. “I am.”

Maryanne’s lips turned up even as she tried to school her features. “I’m glad he found you.”

Belle laughed through the tears, reaching her arm around Gold’s waist. “Actually, I found him.”

“That makes it even better, and I want to hear all about it.” With a shaky smile she turned back toward the store, but after only a single step turned back. “I’m sorry he’s not here.” Tears slipped out again, her face crumbling. “He always knew you were coming.”

It was Belle that ran to her, that held her when she fell apart in the middle of the parking lot. He could only watch, his fingers turning white gripping his cane, as his granddaughter sobbed into his lover’s shoulder for long minutes. He couldn’t move until it sank into his bones, until the moment was beyond surprise and shock and all that was left was the reality standing before him. He had the one thing he’d always yearned for: family.

He walked over, wrapping his arms around both of them. “But  _you_  were here, dearie. You were here.”


End file.
